


Only You

by Haunted_Obsidian



Category: Walking Dead (Comics), Walking Dead (TV)
Genre: Angry Daryl, Crying Rick, Dehydration, Exhaustion, M/M, Rick getting carried, Worried Daryl, hand holding, inspired by a prompt on the walking dead kink meme
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-12-03
Updated: 2013-12-03
Packaged: 2018-01-03 09:28:39
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,475
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1068833
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Haunted_Obsidian/pseuds/Haunted_Obsidian
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Daryl never knew choosing his brother over Rick would have such disastrous results.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Only You

**Author's Note:**

> This was inspired by a prompt on the WD kink meme about Daryl carrying Rick, and Rick being exhausted and basically just breaking down. Couldn't find the exact prompt, so I just ran with what I remembered.

One minute, Rick was upright, chest heaving in and out as the corpses of walkers fell at his feet. The next, he had swayed before making eye contact with Daryl, and had then collapsed to the ground, eyes rolled into the back of his head. 

At that, Daryl had felt his heartbeat speed up from the rapid rhythm it was already propelling at to something akin to the flutter of a humming bird's wings. 

Distantly, he had heard his brother call out his name, but he ignored the older man's shouts and ran straight for Rick, slinging his crossbow over his shoulder as he did so. 

“Rick!Rick!” he said in a panicked whisper, one hand slapping the other man's cheek gently. When no response came, Daryl eased one arm under the ex-lawman's back and the other underneath his legs. He felt his heart drop in his chest as he stood up, the action much easier than he had expected it to be. The man felt far too light in his arms as he raced towards the gate, Merle at his back. 

Even though it had only taken a few minutes to make it into the prison and safely into their cell block, to Daryl, it had felt like forever. 

He quickly laid the other man down on his bed, barking for Hershel before he even realized the former vet's name was coming out of his mouth. Rick laid motionless on the bed, the only sign of life being the fact that Daryl could see his heart beating through his neck, the vein there pulsing rapidly as the organ worked overtime to pump blood through the fallen man's veins. 

“Rick? Hey, Rick, can ya hear me?” he murmured, pushing Rick's hair out of his eyes and off his forehead. It was slick with sweat, and easy to maneuver. When the other man didn't stir immediately, Daryl couldn't help but panic. 

He wasn't paying attention to who, but someone had thrust a water bottle into his hands, so he quickly, yet gently, titled Rick's head back and let a little of the substance trickle down his throat. 

Daryl sat back and waited, hating the fact that the smaller man still wasn't moving. With the exception of his chest rising and falling, he was still.

The redneck stared at the leader of their group, taking in all the changes that had occurred while he had been gone. Though it had only been a couple of weeks, the transformation was more than easy to see. Rick's face was gaunt, cheeks sunken in even more than they had been before. Daryl traced his cheek bone, dread filling his stomach at the fact of how prominent it had become. 

With shaking hands, he started removing Rick's shirts. First, the brown button-up one; then, the white tee that was anything but underneath. Daryl felt his breath catch at the sight. The other man's ribs were clearly visible, and it was easy for Daryl to see that Rick had been neglecting himself and then some. The belt holding up his jeans had two recently made holes, and Daryl couldn't help but feel guilty for it.

He shouldn't have left. The thought ran over and over again through his head as his brow narrowed in anger. If he would've stayed, Rick wouldn't have done this to himself. 

“Can you give me a lil' room, son?” Hershel's voice cut through his thoughts. 

Daryl nodded and sniffled, clumsily running his index finger underneath his nose as he scooted over, though he still managed to stay less than two feet away from Rick. 

Hershel sat down next to him, and started checking Rick's vitals. After a few moments, the older man stood up, holding onto his crutches for support. 

“Well?” Daryl asked, staring up at him, immediately retaking his place beside the unconscious man.

“He's dehydrated pretty badly. I honestly don't think he's eaten or drank anything in the past two days. I-” Before Hershel could continue, Daryl cut him off.

“You mean ta tell me, y'all just let 'em starve himself? What kind a shit is that?” he asked, his voice raising the more heated he grew.

“Now hold on there, son. B'fore you start pointing fingers, you should know that Rick hasn't exactly been all that accessible. For the past two days, he's been wondering around outside the gate. As for his reasons, I'll let him tell you when he wakes up, which should hopefully be soon. He's just fainted. Other than that, he should be alright.”

Daryl nodded, frustration and anger still clearly written across his features. 

“I'll be downstairs if you need me,” Hershel said, a solemn expression on his face.

Daryl nodded again, still not speaking. He was afraid of what might pass between his lips, still not understanding how the group could have let Rick get like this. They were all supposed to be there for one another, especially Rick. 

He sighed, scrubbing a hand over his face. He was a hypocrite if there ever was one. 

“Daryl?” the voice was faint, but it definitely belonged to Rick. Daryl's gaze shot to the other man, one hand absentmindedly taking a hold of one of Rick's. “What's going on? Are you alright?” 

Daryl shook his head. Rick had only just opened his eyes, and was asking him if he was alright. Daryl didn't think he'd ever be alright again.

“Here, drink this,” the Georgia native instructed, holding the water bottle up to Rick's lips. “Wait,” Rick said, and sat up, blinking owlishly as a wave of dizziness overcame him. 

“Why don't you lay back down, huh? Rest a lil' while?” The redneck made it seem like a suggestion, using the gentlest tone he had, but it was more like a polite order than anything. Rick wasn't well. That much he could see. 

Rick shook his head at Daryl's words, sitting fully upright as he pushed sweaty strings of hair out of his eyes. “I'm okay,” he murmured, blue eyes still weary and bright, and if Daryl didn't know any better, burning with fever. 

“Rick-”

“You're back.” Rick's voice was still light, and barely audible, but God, so grateful. “You came back.” And Daryl didn't miss the tremor in the other man's voice, the way it sounded like he was choking back tears and a lump in his throat. 

“Yeah,” Daryl nodded, suddenly feeling confined in the small space. The air was thick, and he was finding it harder and harder to catch his breath. He gripped the gray bedsheets beneath him, looking ready to spring up at a moment's notice. 

“I was lost, you know...without-without you.”

The words made Daryl still, the urge to run easing, though his body was still tense. 

“I-I almost...I wanted to...” And Daryl hated hearing Rick stumble on his words. It just wasn't right, and for some goddamned reason, it made his chest ache. “I missed you.” A sharp intake of breath came after that, and the sound forced Daryl's gaze from the floor to Rick. It was then that he saw the other man hunched over on himself, shaking hands covering his eyes from the tears that were leaking from them. 

The redneck's heart broke at the sight, and though it made him uncomfortable, to say the least, he found himself carefully wrapping his arms around the ex-lawman. Once he did, he could feel Rick sink into him, and start shaking more heavily, the tremors coming faster and stronger. Then there was a sob, sounding so broken and damaged, Daryl felt his own eyes well up. 

“First Shane, then Lori, and then you...I just—I just...” Rick tried to finish his sentence, but the words were lost, though fully understood by Daryl. “I'm sorry,” Rick whispered, and Daryl shook his head. 

“Ain't got nothin' ta be sorry for,” he said, trying to reassure the other man, but apparently, Rick wasn't hearing it.

“I'm sorry I made you choose. Never shoulda done that. I'm sorry, Daryl.” Rick's voice broke again, and Daryl could feel him clutching the back of his shirt. The cotton material that covered his shoulder was also dampening, but he didn't mind. He just held onto Rick as tight as he could, running one hand through the end of Rick's hair. 

“It's my fault, Rick. Not yours. Never shoulda left ya ta begin with. You go an' put all your trust in me, an' I just left. This ain't your fault.” Rick nodded in his shoulder, murmuring, “But it is.” And Daryl just shook his head. Rick carried the weight of the world on his shoulders, and refused to let anyone else help with the burden. Daryl was going to have to change that. 

“C'mon, now. You an' I both know that's not true. You did what ya thought was right. After all the things Merle's done, it's understandable.”

“He's your brother, Daryl. Shoulda never asked ya to choose, and you know it. It-It was wrong a me,” Rick admitted, and Daryl could feel him pulling away reluctantly. Daryl withdrew his embrace, and let his hands fall to his lap, watching Rick wipe the remainder of the tears from his eyes with the heels of his hands. “I-I screwed up again,” Rick said, and Daryl noticed that Rick's gaze was directed at the floor, too much shame glimmering in his eyes to make eye contact with the other man. 

“Rick-” 

“I-I think I'm losing it. Really losing it,” he said, nodding as fresh tears brimmed in his eyes. “Daryl-” And he cut himself short, voice beginning to shake again. “I-I'm seein' things.” 

Daryl kept his mouth shut, memories of seeing his brother when he wasn't really there coming to mind. 

“I've been seein' her,” Rick said, running a hand up and down his bare arm as though he were cold. He cleared his throat, then continued. “Lori, that is.”

Daryl's brow narrowed slightly, but he remained silent, fighting the urge to reach out and pull Rick back towards him. Instead, he just kept quiet and listened. 

“That's-That's why I was where I was. I thought—I just thought...” His voice trailed off as he swayed again. Though the action was barely noticeable, Daryl didn't miss it. 

“Here,” he said, and picked the bottle of water back up, holding it out towards Rick. 

Rick hesitantly took it, hand shaking as his fingers wrapped around the bottle. He held it to his lips, downed half of it, then screwed the cap back on.

“We need ta get ya somethin' ta eat,” Daryl said, getting up and grabbing a clean shirt out of Rick's pack. He handed the brown-plaid button-up to the bare-chested man, and Rick took it gratefully. Daryl watched as he slipped it on, the garment now hanging off of Rick's bony frame where it used to fit before. 

“I'm not-not really all that hungry,” Rick stated, voice going in and out. He cleared his throat once more as he buttoned the shirt up, hands shaking so badly that Daryl had to get the last two for him. 

“Rick, this ain't a debate. You need ta eat somethin'.” Daryl stood there looking down at him, blue eyes searching the other man who was still seated. 

“I don't want anything, Daryl,” Rick said, voice so quiet the redneck had to lean in to hear it. 

“Why are ya doin' this?” His voice was louder than he meant for it to be, and the volume of it made Rick jump. 

“I just—everything...everything tastes like...it don't taste right,” Rick finally finished, eyes trained on the floor again. He sniffled and ran a hand through his hair once more, the action just making it fall right back into his face. 

Daryl sighed, and soon found himself kneeling down in front of the ex-lawman. “Rick, whatever you're goin' through, I'm gonna help you with it, awright? An' the first step is makin' sure you don't pass out again. Everyone's worried about ya, 'specially me,” he said, one hand slowly finding purchase on Rick's bony knee. 

Rick nodded, glancing at Daryl before looking away again, nervousness set in his posture. “I'll be fine. No need to worry 'bout me,” Rick said, the dark circles underneath his eyes appearing as though they were growing even darker and more bruised by the minute. He was in desperate need of food and rest, and yet kept resisting. Daryl understood his stubbornness, was guilty of it some days himself, but now wasn't the time. He stood back up again, letting his hand once again fall away from Rick.

“Stay here, 'kay? I'll be right back.”

Rick nodded, resting his elbows on his knees as he leaned forward, letting out the breath he'd been holding.

“I mean it. Don't go anywhere. I'll jus' be a minute,” Daryl said, one hand on the iron bars that cordoned off half the cell. 

“I won't,” Rick murmured with a shake of his head. 

Daryl nodded, telling himself that Rick was going to be okay, even though a part of him knew better. With all the man had lost, he wondered if he'd ever be alright again. 

Giving Rick one last glance, he set off down the stairs and towards the mess hall. It was empty, everyone mostly gathered in the main cell block. Daryl set to work, deciding to fix Rick some plain oatmeal. They didn't exactly have a vast supply or variety of foodstuffs, but he figured out of what they did have, it'd be the easiest on the man's stomach. Once he was finished heating up the substance, he retreated back up the stairs and into Rick's cell. 

He sighed quietly at the sight of the ex-lawman. Rick was laying on his side, one arm pillowing his head while his knees were pulled up to his chest. His brow was drawn downward even in sleep, and Daryl just didn't have it in himself to wake up the older man. Deciding he'd rather be there when Rick woke up, Daryl set the bowl down and took a seat on the concrete floor, bringing one knee up and letting the other sprawl out as he leaned his back against the wall. 

He rubbed his eyes tiredly and sighed, letting his head fall back so that it rested on the wall of the cell. He fixed his gaze on Rick, and bit his bottom lip. With slight hesitation, he reached out towards Rick's hand that was laying slack on the edge of the cot, and took it in his own. Running a thumb over the other man's slim fingers, he tightened his grip a bit and then prepared to settle in for as long as it took for Rick to wake up. 

Daryl wasn't going anywhere again. That much he was sure of.


End file.
